


i'll be seeing you

by sinequanon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 06:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23846395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinequanon/pseuds/sinequanon
Summary: It's not that he's given up, exactly, it's just that Stiles was never meant to be alone.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 20
Kudos: 321





	i'll be seeing you

**Author's Note:**

> This one is surprisingly emotional, and might be tough to read if you're having trouble with isolation right now. It uses the ubiquitous "out of phase" sci-fi trope (where someone disappears and is presumed dead, but is really walking around watching everyone) minus the presumed dead part. Unfortunately for Stiles, he's already been out of phase for a couple of months when this starts.
> 
> I played around with format again: for this, I use a stanza from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem "Haunted Houses", followed by a letter from Stiles to his dad. You could read the story as-is, but you could also the poem all the way through, followed by the letters, and you might be able to read the letters by themselves. I think it makes sense, but let me know what you think.

1:

All houses wherein men have lived and died  
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors  
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,  
With feet that make no sound upon the floors. 

***

_Dad,_

_I had to move out of the house the other day. I'm sorry. I thought that I could handle it--me seeing you, and you not seeing me. If I timed everything just right, we could pretend we were on different schedules. I told myself that if I stepped out of my room just as you walked out the front door, I could look at your coffee cup on the counter and be okay with it._

_I'm not okay with it._

_I know that you're doing everything you can to bring me home, but all of the whens and hows feel too heavy right now._

_I'll come visit, but I think we both need our own space. Keep the puppies in line, will you?_

_I love you. I miss you. I'll be seeing you._

_Stiles_

2:

We meet them at the doorway, on the stair,  
Along the passages they come and go,  
Impalpable impressions on the air,  
A sense of something moving to and fro.

***

_Dad,_

_Did you know that my old fourth grade teacher is a kleptomaniac? That's what I get for walking around the grocery store at three in the morning, I suppose._

_It was after Mrs. Mason stuffed that candy bar into her purse that I realized--I could take anything, and it wouldn't matter. I could eat a dozen candy bars, pour milk out onto the floor, start a fire on aisle seven, anything._

_I wondered if I caused a big enough mess, if the grocers would call the police. Would you come and investigate? If you saw all that milk, would it remind you of that time we had to spend an hour cleaning the kitchen because I tried to make "super cereal" when I was seven?_

_Would that memory make things better, or worse?_

_I didn't touch the milk._

_I love you. I miss you. I'll be seeing you._

_Stiles_

3:

There are more guests at table, than the hosts  
Invited; the illuminated hall  
Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,  
As silent as the pictures on the wall. 

***

_Dad,_

_Remember that abandoned old house at the edge of town, the one that all the kids say is haunted? I'm staying there now._

_I don't know if you've ever been in there--probably not, since it's still private property--but it's like the people that lived here just walked out and never came home. The table's set with fancy plates and candlesticks and every time I step into the dining room I expect to find someone sitting there._

_The rooms are full of stuff too, and I'd wonder why no one had ever looted the place if it wasn't for all of those crazy ghost stories._

_I guess I'm the ghost now, huh?_

_I spend most of my time in the library, these days. I know you'd tell me to get out sometimes, and take in the sunshine, but walking outside makes me want things I'm not sure I can ever have again._

_I love you. I miss you. I'll be seeing you._

_Stiles_

4:

The stranger at my fireside cannot see  
The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear;  
He but perceives what is; while unto me  
All that has been is visible and clear. 

***

_Dad,_

_I've been thinking about Peter a lot lately. We've never talked about what it was like when he was dead--whether he was aware of anything, or if he was just here and gone and then back again. Maybe he lived in this house before me. Sometimes I look through the books in the library and try to figure out which ones Peter read._

_I hope the two of you are looking out for each other. You both need someone--Peter maybe even more than you._

_I'm not sure what the thing going on between Peter and I was, exactly. That's why I hadn't talked to you about it yet, even though I knew you were curious. It was something, though. I hope I have another chance to figure out what it was._

_Take care of yourself._

_I love you. I miss you. I'll be seeing you._

_Stiles_

5:

We have no title-deeds to house or lands;  
Owners and occupants of earlier dates  
From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands,  
And hold in mortmain still their old estates. 

***

_Dad,_

_I thought that I saw Allison the other day. It was just a flash out of the corner of my eye, but I could have sworn that it was her. Or maybe I'm finally losing it._

_I'm not sure how long it's been. Even when I was staying at the house, looking at the calendar hurt too much. Maybe it's been a week; maybe it's been a year. Maybe it's been ten years and you've died of a broken heart and the only company I'll ever have is the possibility of the ghost of a dead friend._

_I'm sorry; I'm just a little off right now. I'll be better tomorrow._

_I love you. I miss you. I'll be seeing you._

_Stiles_

6:

The spirit-world around this world of sense  
Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere  
Wafts through these earthly mists and vapors dense  
A vital breath of more ethereal air. 

***

_Dad,_

_Do you ever miss the time before you knew about the supernatural? I didn't, until this happened. With everything we've lived through, I can't help but think of all the people we've lost, and how I might be the one lost this time. Even with the best of intentions, sometimes puzzles have too many pieces. People get bored, or distracted, or a piece falls under the couch and disappears for five years._

_I want to hug you so much it hurts. I came by the house the other day and watched you sleep like a creeper until I couldn't take it anymore._

_Then I went to my old room, and guess who I found sleeping in my bed? Do you know about Peter's visits, or is he keeping them from you?_

_I'm glad the two of you are together. Just don't forget about me, okay?_

_I love you. I miss you. I'll be seeing you._

_Stiles_

7:

Our little lives are kept in equipoise  
By opposite attractions and desires;  
The struggle of the instinct that enjoys,  
And the more noble instinct that aspires.

***

_Dad,_

_I spent the day with Peter today and, by extension, the rest of the pack. Who knew that little ole me would inspire such a reunion? Derek and Scott almost looked like they sort of tolerated each other. I'd be proud if I wasn't beyond ready to get home._

_I am proud of Peter, though; who knew he loved me enough to let other people into his super posh apartment? He didn't even threaten to kill anyone, but that might have only been because he didn't want to ruin the carpet._

_I'm still calling it a win._

_After everyone left, Peter turned on a movie that we'd talked about seeing before I disappeared. I stayed and watched it with him, and I'd like to think that maybe he could sense me a little._

_I love you. I miss you. I'll see you soon._

_Stiles_

8:

These perturbations, this perpetual jar  
Of earthly wants and aspirations high,  
Come from the influence of an unseen star,  
An undiscovered planet in our sky. 

***

_Dad,_

_Sometimes, I wish I was still in love with Lydia, glory that she is. I can't communicate with her like this because I'm not dead--we all know that--but she still wasted two hours of her life trying anyway because Scott started freaking out at the meeting._

_And then she and Peter got down to business and came up with a plan, because of course they did, and it is as complicated and convoluted as all of pack's plans are, because of course it is._

_I couldn't care less right now. They have to wait for the eclipse on Saturday to do the ritual, but I have faith for once that things are going to work out._

_I love you. I miss you. I'll see you soon._

_Stiles_

9:

And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud  
Throws o'er the sea a floating bridge of light,  
Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd  
Into the realm of mystery and night,-- 

***

_Scott,_

_I doubt that you'll ever get this letter; I kind of hope that you don't, actually. But if something goes wrong tomorrow I want to say that I've never regretted being your friend._

_You could have hated me: for being that annoying weirdo on the playground, for (accidentally) helping you get bitten by a werewolf, for Allison, for any number of things, but you never did._

_You've always been my brother, and I love you. We've been through a lot of crazy stuff together, but there's no one I would have rather gone through it with than you._

_Don't forget to have fun without me, but not too much, and look out for my dad._

_Thanks for the memories._

_Stiles_

10:

So from the world of spirits there descends  
A bridge of light, connecting it with this,  
O'er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends,  
Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.

***

_Dad,_

_How is this my life? I'm sitting in the library of an abandoned house waiting for an eclipse so my friends can do a ritual that will hopefully yank me back to the proper dimension._

_That's Beacon Hills for you, I guess._

_Is it weird that I'm in here, with the books and the dust, instead of wherever the rest of the pack is preparing? I want to come home, I do, but there's a part of me that wants to leave my mark here, too. This house has been good to me._

_Do you think you'd be able to look the other way if I came back to visit? I'd kind of like to see if everything is the same I remember--then again, I'm not sure how I'd feel if it wasn't._

_Maybe Peter would be willing to come with me._

_I decided last night that I'm going to leave my journal here, for a couple of reasons. One, I don't think you, or Scott, or Peter, should ever read these letters; they'd only upset you. Two, I'm not sure that I_ _should read them, either._

_I think it might be better if I stick them on a shelf and forget about them, if I can._

_If it works._

_I love you. I miss you. I'll see you soon._

_Stiles_

<> <>

_Six months later_

"Are you sure you want to do this?" 

To his credit, it was only the second time that Peter had asked since they'd been sitting in the driveway. Stiles had no doubt that the werewolf had been thinking it the whole drive over, but he hadn't actually mentioned anything until Stiles had failed to get out of the car.

The house looked the same on the outside, but what if it wasn't? He'd just managed to get some distance from Scott in the past few weeks: if Stiles had a breakdown now, Scott would probably move in with him, Peter be damned, and who knew what Peter himself would do.

Whatever Stiles decided, it needed to be soon. The county had finally decided to tear the place down, so this could be his last chance to say goodbye.

And wasn't that an annoying soup of fear and fondness in his head? It wasn't something he could explain to anyone else, either.

Stiles shrugged, because he _didn't_ want to go in just as much as he _did._ "I'm just going to go in, walk upstairs to the corner library, and...breathe, I guess."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

 _Did he_? "You can, if you want," Stiles told him, which meant that Peter took the initiative for getting them out of the car and into the house.

Stiles didn't mind.

Silently, they moved past the dining room, with its fancy china and candlesticks, up the stairs, and through to the back of the house where the library was waiting, just like he remembered.

Slowly, so slowly, he made one, two, three circuits around the library, taking in each book and artifact as if he could commit them all to memory.

At some point, Peter had let go of Stiles's hand to do his own exploring, so he wasn't looking when Stiles spotted it, half-tucked behind a globe.

His journal.

There was a part of Stiles that wanted to grab it, to take it home and figure out just how many letters he had written, to try to piece together some sort of timeline, or...something, but--

Peter's touch on his arm brought him back to the present. "Did you find what you were looking for?" he asked, gently, and Stiles found himself smiling.

 _This could be enough._ "Yeah. Let's go home."

**Author's Note:**

> You made it! That was kinda rough and a little weird, I think. I hope you liked it, regardless. (Honestly, I'm just happy that I managed to get something out this month.)
> 
> I am finally caught up on comments with the exception of those from alphabet soup and a couple of stragglers that I should get to on Monday, so thanks for your patience and as always, thanks for reading!


End file.
